


#5 “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

by WhisperingMagpie



Series: Prompts [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 21:55:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8914318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperingMagpie/pseuds/WhisperingMagpie
Summary: For @notsorru





	

Sam barely looked up when the door shut.

“Sammy?” his brother called out cheerfully. After kicking off his boots and deadbolting the door, Dean turned and grinned at him.

Sam tipped back the last of his glass of whiskey, raising an eyebrow. As Dean bustled over and took the half empty bottle, pouring himself a shot, Sam could smell the smoke and booze coming off him. His nose wrinkled. Dean smelled like another grimy dive bar and the girl that he’d probably taken out back in the Impala when they got tired of drinking. He could smell her perfume. Strong and sweet. Sickening. He must have been making a hell of a bitchface, because Dean’s grin dropped.

Dean frowned and swirled the liquor in his glass. “What’s got your panties in a knot? Another night alone with your hand and pay-per-view?”

Sam snorted, glaring down at his empty glass. He stood up, his chair scraping harshly on the floor as he put his glass in the sink. His hands rested on the edge of the sink while he breathed in deeply, letting out a sigh. “What do you care? I’m sure you had a great night with some nice girl. Do you even remember her name?”

He didn’t even have to look back to tell Dean was scowling. “Way to ruin the mood. She was a very nice girl, I assure you. Her name was, uh…” There was some shuffling of papers, and Sam glanced back to see Dean digging scraps of paper out of his pockets with multiple names and phone numbers. He paused with one in each hand, squinting at curly writing with hearts in the i’s and lipstick prints. He looked between the two. “Jasmine. It was Jasmine. Or was it…Michelle?”

Sam rolled his eyes, and walked away into the bathroom. All he said before the door shut was, “I really don’t care what her name was.”

Dean shrugged and carried the bottle of whiskey with him as he propped himself up in bed, turning on the TV.

Sam was shaking as he locked the door behind him, movements automatic as he turned on the shower to hot. He wasn’t sure if he was shaking in anger or sadness. Jealousy. Longing. It didn’t matter. Dean would never see him. Dean didn’t care than Sam had been in love with him for longer than he knew what the word love meant. Dean was too busy bouncing from one bar skank to the next, gathering so many phone numbers it made Sam’s head spin when he came back to the motel, listing off all the girls names with pride. He’d tried to forget Dean while he was at Stanford, but now that they were back to living in eachother’s pockets, it was almost too much to bear, being around him all the time.

Sam stripped off his clothing quickly and stepped under the spray of steaming hot water. He hissed at the sting of it and turned down the temperature a notch. Then he simply stood, letting it soak him. He was still there twenty minutes later when Dean banged on the door.

“Hurry up, Sam! I gotta piss!”

Sam blinked and grumbled, grabbing the soap to start washing himself. “Yeah, out in a minute!”

It was more like five when he emerged, but he didn’t give one single fuck. He clutched a towel around himself and had barely opened the door when Dean shoved past him and unzipped his pants to relieve himself.

“Gross, Dean. You could have at least let me leave first,” Sam mumbled as he shut the door on Dean’s chuckling voice. He sat down on the edge of the bed, drying his hair with a smaller towel. He pulled on some sweatpants and a tshirt and crawled into bed, pulling a book from his duffle and burying his nose in it.

Dean wiped his wet hands on his thighs as he strode out. And then he was peeling off his shirt over his head, flopping down on the other bed while he wriggled out of his jeans. Sam peeked over the top of his book, and he wished he hadn’t. His face flushed at the sight of Dean’s exposed body, while the rest of his blood rushed south.

“Not polite to stare, Sammy,” Dean grinned and he pulled the covers up to his armpits. He winked before grabbing his phone out of his pants pocket.

Sam, mortified, brought the book up to cover his face and turned a page, pretending to be reading, willing his boner to go down.

——–

The next time Dean came home from the bar, Sam lost it.

A giggling blonde clung to Dean’s arm as they stumbled inside. Sam looked up from his laptop and stared in disbelief. Dean grinned at him and then nodded towards the door, hinting at him to skedaddle.

Sam shut his laptop hard. “Dean, we need to be out of here early in the morning.”

The girl squealed as Dean nudged her over backwards on the bed. He didn’t even look back as he leaned down to kiss her neck, hands trailing up her sides. “So? Go get your beauty sleep in the car.” He dug the keys out of his pocket, tossing them on the floor at Sam’s feet.

Sam sighed and knelt to pick up the keys. He slowly walked to the door and opened it, but did not leave. He stood by the open door, watching as the pretty little thing clung to Dean, moaning openly as he pushed up her bra, grinding against his thigh where it pressed between her parted legs. It wasn’t fair.

He drew in a deep breath, and spoke up. “You know what? I’m done. I’ve had it with you bringing back girls and kicking me out every other night. If you don’t want me here, I’ll fucking leave. Fuck you, Dean!” Sam walked over to pick up his duffle bag and shoved his laptop inside, throwing the Impala keys on the bed before storming out the door and slamming it hard. He began walking down the road into the night. He’d hitchhike. He’d sleep under a bus shelter if he had to, but he wasn’t going to stay where Dean didn’t give a shit about him.

Seeing Dean with all those girls felt like a shard of glass was digging into his chest and he was left to bleed out slowly. But he never died. It just kept hurting. So, fuck him. Dean would probably have more fun without him being a wet blanket anyway.

Behind him, Dean was calling his name, but a semi roaring by drowned it out. Or at least, that’s what Sam would say. Sam didn’t look back.

Dean kept calling him for days, until his phone died. And Sam never bothered to charge it. He left it in the bottom of his duffle bag, and forgot about it.

—–

Sam laughed and swatted Jesse’s hand away from where it had crept into his back pocket as they walked home from the movie theatre. “Heyyy, not out in public!” He whined.

The other man just grinned and grabbed Sam’s upper arm, swinging him around to pin him against the wall playfully, leaning in to steal a kiss. “Fine, then I’m gonna take you home and grope you all I want ‘til you can’t take it and beg me to fuck you,” he teased in Sam’s ear.

Sam squirmed against his boyfriend and draped his arms around his Jesse’s neck, hips pressing forward. A shiver ran down his spine as Jesse nibbled on his throat, kissing and sucking. “Fuck yeah…” Sam murmured.

“Get the fuck away from him!” A familiar voice growled, and then Jesse was yanked away from him so fast he blinked in the cool night air for a moment before he could focus on the scuffle in front of him. Jesse stumbled back as someone punched him square in the nose. He yelled in pain, hands covering his face, blood dripping down his chin. “What the hell, man?!”

The stranger swung again, before Jesse backed off, phone in hand. “Sam, run! I’m calling the cops!” And then he bolted, leaving Sam to deal with the attacker.

The man turned and he found himself face to face with his older brother.

Sam had his fists up, was ready to fight, but he stepped back against the wall in shock. “…Dean?”

“Hey Sammy,” Dean grinned at him, panting while he wiped the blood off his knuckles. “Took a while, but finally tracked you down.

Sam frowned, folding his arms over his chest. "That was my boyfriend you just punched, you asshole. What the hell do you want? Better make it quick, before I call the cops on you, too.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Who, that loser? He just ditched you in the face of danger. You can do so much better.”

Sam glared at him. “What, are you jealous? Think you can do better?” he spat, half-joking.

“Damn right I could.” And then Dean was stepping into his space, rough hands cupping his face, plush mouth pressing to his. Sam froze up as Dean pulled away, green eyes steady and determined. “I’d protect you. I wouldn’t let anyone take you away from me. Not again.”

Sam was flustered, pushing at Dean’s chest with his hands, but Dean refused to budge.

“W-what are you talking about? Where is this coming from, Dean?”

Dean lifted one hand to stroke Sam’s hair, curling a strand behind his ear. “I love you, Sam. Should have never let you get away. I made a mistake.”

Sam’s eyes began to well up with tears as he shoved at Dean again, and soon he was babbling. “Are you fucking kidding me?! I’ve been in love with you my entire life and you slept with all those women. You ignored me. You kicked me out of our goddamn motel so you could fuck a new whore every week, and you’re telling me that you love me? You’re twenty-two years too late.”

He began to shake and crumble, and Dean pulled Sam against his chest, holding him tightly. “All those girls, they’re nothing to me. I’ve cared about you ever since you were born, Sammy, but I thought you’d find me disgusting. Crushing on my little brother? I’m fucked up. Only reason I was with those girls is to distract myself. Try to deny that I wish they were you. So I wouldn’t end up corrupting you. Never in a million years thought you’d feel the same.”

Dean stroked a soothing hand up and down his brother’s back, waiting until he’d stopped sniffling. “I’m so sorry, Sam. I never meant to shut you out. Never wanted you to leave. Please come back with me.”

Sam lifted his head from where he’d buried it against Dean’s shoulder, and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. Then he slowly smiled. “Jesse WAS a loser. Almost shit himself when he walked in on me cleaning my gun.”

Dean chuckled and pulled away, one hand sliding down to lace his fingers with Sam’s. “Wanna get out of here? Impala’s just around the corner.”

Sam grinned and leaned in to peck Dean’s lips, squeezing his hand. “Yeah. Should see my apartment.”

Dean hummed in delight and licked his lips as they walked to the Impala, hands only separating as they climbed into either side of the car. He gestured to the road ahead. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”


End file.
